


Meet Me In The Pit

by KnifeFriend



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe, Broken Noses, Cliche, Cliche Alternate Universe, Completed, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Meeting for the first time, Mention of alcohol, Metal Shows, Mosh Pits, Pre-Slash, Short One Shot, Shows, Subcultures, slightly older
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 02:03:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3511136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnifeFriend/pseuds/KnifeFriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You broke my fucking nose," the voice was nasally. Seifer could only grimace at the stranger. Seiner. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet Me In The Pit

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from tumblr, "I broke your nose in a mosh pit" AU. Go to the doctor if you break your nose, make sure you're all healthy kiddos. I had to name the title what it is. Couldn't skip up the perfect cliche bullshittery that this already is.

“You broke my fucking nose,” the voice was nasally, but monotonous, with a hand pressing a cold beer to his nose as his other hand pinched the middle. Blood kept flowing out, leaving lines of red dripping down the stranger’s forearm. The words enforced the rightful blame with slight frustration chipping at the ends a few syllables. Seifer could only grimace, rubbing the scar with his head dropped into his calloused fingers with eyes squeezed shut, both sick of the skater’s repetitive complaining and just a tinge of guilt. 

They both leaned against the bathroom’s sink’s counter. Graffiti streaked the walls in rainbow and illiterate stokes. The mirrors were barely functional with stranger’s scrawls taking up the surface. Music vibrated through the walls and were heard, muffled, as it filtered into the bathroom. The band was still playing strong, tempting both to enter the crowd again.

Seifer didn’t say anything in response. He turned with a loud exhale, glancing into the mirror. The stranger—Hayner, as the guy said—just scoffed in response. Seifer was sure his wide eyes were rolling. He quickly ran his hand through his messy hair, ignoring the other whose nose he just broke. He adjusted the collar on his vest, made sure all the pins stayed on the denim. He let out another sigh and slumped over the counter. He turned the faucet on, splashing the water around to let the splattered blood dilute into the drain.

“It wasn’t on purpose—“ interrupting Seifer, Hayner let out a loud _tch_ , “I’ll buy you another beer.” Seifer wiped his damp hands on his (already bloody) shirt. He glanced down at his military combat boots, looking at the scuffs and then glancing to the other male’s shoes. Doc Martens, just as scuffed with green laces letting the leather grip his ankles. His pants were tight, a few patches sewn into the torn denim. Barely a crust punk, though those types of outfits took a lot of work.

“…Fine. Thanks. Glad you weren’t just a jackass who would just continue moshing,” Hayner rolled his eyes once again, but this time with a teasing grin. As nice as it was Seifer couldn’t take it seriously with the nasally voice. 

“I’ve had a few broken noses and adjusted a few others, I can just put it back into place,” he offered with the usual tension making his jaw tense and expression hard. His blue eyes met the brown. Quickly his eyes traced the curve of Hayner’s still maturing jawline, noting the shape of his lips and large, doe eyes. 

“Well…Fuck it, just do it,” he said with a chuckle. Not like Hayner could afford to get it fixed with his own money. Removing his hand thoughtlessly, blood trickled out, less violent than before but still barely clogged by the drying clumps in his nose. “Ah fuck—“ before he could reach up and cover the mess as it dribbled down his chin and onto his vest and Docs, Seifer’s larger hands gripped the back of the coarse blond hair, tugging Hayner up, and pressed his larger fingers firmly on his crooked nose.

His voice was notably hoarse, sultry, as the words, “Relax. It’ll be quick,” were spoken with his breath close enough to warm his already flushed cheeks. There was a pop, crack, loosen of fingers both at the nape of his neck and bridge of his nose.

“…That’s it? Thanks…” the song from the band ended, the vocalist now speaking in the muffled dialogue heard through the venue. Blood began to flow heavily again. Hayner groaned, grabbing more paper towels. Seifer took the beer from his hands, pressing it to his nose himself. 

“No problem. You should probably see a doctor if you could. This is why I don’t fucking like circle pits though,” an exaggeration. He liked them but preferred just people slamming into each other instead of stomping around with ducked heads that would knocked against another metalhead’s. Hayner only smiled, first once shown since the older blond’s elbow met his face. It only proved both pits could make a mess. Hayner’s brown eyes ducked down as the conversation died, reading the pins and patched on Seifer’s black vest. 

He breathed out, sounding like a cheap version of Donald Duck, “SHARP? Are you a skinhead?” he barked out a wheezy nasal laugh, a cocky smirk curving his lips. 

“Seriously? Lame, Hayner, but yes. I was. Nice Weezer patch, fucking skating hipster chickenshit. Why are you at a metal show?” he mocked right back with a reflecting smirk. Hayner’s face, already flushed from moshing and then breaking his nose, deepened as his free hand snapped over the patch. 

“Shut up, that’s old. Vests take time,” he spat between clenched teeth. Seifer couldn’t help the thought of how cute his looked like the blush. “Just go buy me that beer and you can be relieved from this duty,” another roll of the brown eyes as his voice drawled out with the plugged tone.

Seifer’s lips made a firm line as he nodded. He quickly rinsed his hands from blood that had transferred when he adjusted his nose. He passed out the door to the main section venue, the pit still active as the band played. The singer was head banding, his flaming red hair fitting with the lighting from the stage. Incense made the room slightly smokey as it was perched on the guitarist’s headstock.As he approached the bar he mulled over Hayner. While he was temperamental, it was probably from the moment. Once he calmed down he seemed like an entertaining guy. 

Once he returned to the bathroom Hayner stood close to another mysterious blond boy. He was cleaning up the blood from his forearms and face. His hair stood up in a cowlick, and once he turned his head shocking blue eyes glared at him. 

“That’s him?” he asked Hayner, purposely leaving the entering male out of the loop. “Well…You’re not wrong, I guess,” he smiled, quite unpleasantly at Sefier, and patted Hayner’s shoulder to show where he was addressing his words. “I’m going back out there. It means a lot to Axel that I come,” the stranger said, “Thanks for taking care of Hayner, he’s pretty useless,” he joked as he strode past the tallest blond, tossing a bloody paper towel away. Sefier didn’t bother to ponder on any of that. He scowled, furrowing his eyebrows as he approached Hayner. 

“Sorry,” the curly haired blond blurted out first. “That’s Roxas. He’s pretty…candid.” 

“It’s fine, just wasn’t expecting it,” Sefier shrugged. “Has the bleeding gone down a bit?”

“It actually slowed down a lot. Guess you didn’t do that much damaged. Sorry, asshole.”

“Tch, next time,” he joked. 

Hayner took the chance, leering up at the blue eyes with a grin tugging the corner of his thin lips. 

“Next time? Should I be looking out for you?” Not probably that great sounding, with the nasally tremble. They both only met a few hours ago in the pit. The fact that they didn’t see each other at previous shows let the words seem to mean less. Sefier chuckled, licking his lips as he thought about it. 

“Yeah, I’ll be looking for you,” he returned. Sefier grabbed the beer pressed to Hayner’s face, handing him the new one. He took out his keys, grabbing the bottle opener attached and popped off the cap. “I’m taking a sip,” he stated, not letting Hayner say anything as he took a swig. The smaller blond scoffed, pressing the colder bottle to his face. He watched as Seifer’s adam apple, just slightly, bobbed. Hayner felt a sort of jealously over the perfect form the stranger’s body was in, at the same time he just hoped he was as gay as he is. Although he returned the flirting that really couldn’t mean shit.

The vibrations of the the raw vocals echoed in the building. Hayner rocked on his heels as the tempo of the song quickened. A silence, that would’ve been awkward if it weren’t for the band, was broken as Hayner set the bottle in his hand down and set the bloody paper towels by the sink. 

“You can go if you want. There really isn’t a point in hanging around,” he offered nonchalantly. He gently pressed his thumb into his nose, watching as dried blood crumbled out. He still wanted to go out. He was going to, he’d seen a man get his tooth chipped in half but kept thrashing. He has dealt with worse anyway. 

“Are you sure, chickenwuss?” Seifer watched as Hayner wiped the blood away from his lips. 

“Chickenwuss? What type of juvenile name is tha—,” Calloused fingers were touching Hayner again. This time one of the hands pressed between the top of Hayner’s shoulder blades, fingers pressing up to the nape as the other jerked his chin up with brash fingers. 

Hayner didn’t know whether to concentrate on the bitter taste of beer, the soft pressure of the stranger’s lips, or the fact that, indeed, Seifer is as gay as he is. Considering he was a skinhead it really wasn’t expected. Yet the gentle caress of the stranger’s breath onto his cheek, with tingles from loose strands of hair on his forehead, distracted him from the first thoughts. Lips slowly moved, Hayner letting his jaw slacken to tenderly move again the other's lips. Seifer pulled back, smirking smugly as if he just won something. The mushy state of Hayner’s thoughts disappeared as he responded with a scowl to the other’s expression. 

“It’s your name,” Seifer chuckled, handing the beer to Hayner’s vacant hand that was tense beside him. The larger fingers slid off of his skin. “Meet me in the pit,” he laughed, taking his turn to exit. 

Hayner decided them he’d either punch the shit out of him or make out with him in the pit. Maybe both. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hayner has some of the few worries I have when going to shows. Like, if that chick even into girls? Who knows, because I never flirted with them. And that tiny detail of a man who chipped his tooth and continued to mosh hella hard is a real thing I saw. He was pretty cool. Also a vocalist of a local band, but I digress.
> 
> The venue they are at is inspired by the Phoenix Theatre, a venue where lots of shows happen close to were I live. Hayner is like a lot of punks though, hah, break something and do nothing about it. Maybe get drunk, but not really acknowledge it. I keep digressing, sorry.
> 
> Wrote this in an hour, as usual. Hope it turned out alright! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
